


things you said

by casmund



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: HollyCon update in which they still aren't that happy, M/M, in which they are both idiots and ruin each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7327540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casmund/pseuds/casmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tiny drabbles written a while ago for prompts from that well-known tumblr post (and also one extra inspired by infamous Margaret Atwood quote). Didn't want them to get lost, so posting them here after all.<br/>No one is happy in these.</p><p>UPD: a chapter on HollyCon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. make the time to drive out west

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes and for possible misuse of Irish/kiwi slang.

_3\. things you said too quietly._  
  
The day couldn't get any worse, probably. Sarah is here, your Sarah, which can only mean a catastrophe is about to unfurl. It's a ticking bomb, the three of us in a hotel room and my camera. You look away, as if trying to pretend you're not even there. I somehow became aware that possibly one day you'll get so good at this you'll actually disappear, from my life or hers. The idea is uncomfortable cold fingers on my neck and I can't help shivering. Sarah looks at me, all sharp lines, sharp hair, smart dress, cold eyes, and I use the sound of my camera to break this silence. She snaps at me the moment my camera goes off.  
  
"I don't even understand why you're here. It's a discussion we need to have on our own, right, Aidan? Tell him."  
  
Aidan doesn't look at either of us.  
  
"We are not going to talk about him behind his back, are we?"  
  
She looks at him, lips pursed.  
  
"I'm glad I decided to get here. You don't even see what you've become."  
  
She turns on her heels, heading towards the door. She's not even out of the room yet when you look at me.  
  
"I am sorry."  
  
I am not sure if you actually said it or if I just wanted to read it off your barely moving lips.  
  
I take a picture of you getting up to catch up with her, camera too heavy in my arms.

***

 

 _15\. things you said with too many miles between us_  
  
"Good morning," he says.  
  
It isn't morning in New Zealand, but it is here, and I have just woken up and barely gained consciousness when I picked up the phone.  
  
"Morning," I croak and roll out of my bed, searching for my jeans. He laughs and I get the feeling that I know exactly what this laughter means, I just forgot.  
  
"You know, I've wanted to wait for you to dial, but, eh, since it's your working day an' all, I thought you might be too busy to remember."  
  
This giggling laughter means he's drunk.  
  
I remember it from when we were off in the pub with the others, Richard passionately discussing dwarven relics with everyone and no one in particular, since nobody actually gave a shite, and you leaned in to me to tell me about it with that stupid ossified laughter of yours.  
  
I remember it from when we've had too many beers while playing play station in my trailer and you thought it would be very funny to try and steal my joystick (I thought it was hilarious, I was even more intoxicated, I admit) and then fell asleep on the couch and I had to move you to the bed, to my bed, because I was being such a good friend and hoped it'd at least spare you ache in your back and neck in the morning.  
  
I remember it from when we were camping, away from the set, from the people, from the whole world, just you and me and the ocean waves, and the whiskey, Irish, obviously. I kissed your temple, your cheek, your neck, till your laughter died and you grew still, and I could hear nothing but your heartbeat, I didn't even hear my breath.  
  
I remember it from the night in Berlin and Sarah waiting for you in your hotel room, and you kissing me dizzily, frantically promising "This is the last one, I swear", making me breathless yet again and unable to tell you to fuck the fuck off.  
  
I woke up to that memory. I was not too busy to remember, I was going to drown myself in filming, sweat it all out until I forget and then just ignore the need to call, telling myself it's too late anyways and you have better things to do.  
  
Yet here he is, calling me from his own wedding.  
  
"Man, I haven't forgotten!" I answer, trying to think up a way to end this conversation. "It's just hard to wrap my mind around it. Congratulations! Send my regards to Sarah! Be happy!"  
  
The phone falls silent, and I even suspect there's something wrong with the connection, but it's Cornwall and not the damn moon, and after a few moments I can hear him breathing. We're both silent for what feels like a few years.  
  
"You too," he says. "You too, Aidan."  
  
And suddenly, I don't hear that laughter in his voice anymore.

***

 

 _19\. things you said when we were happiest we ever were_  
  
a)  
  
"Hey, 'm Aidan," he says. I smile back at him as I shake his hand, as we chat, as he spreads this overwhelming friendliness all around him. It feels like he decided to get inside my very skin by the time I need to act being his brother. I appreciate the effort, I really do, but it seems to be something a four-year-old would do. And yet... There's something about him that is absolutely endearing. You cannot dislike the sound of the spring in the grass, water running fast and clear. So I don't even notice I keep smiling back.  
  
b)  
  
The night is getting thicker and darker, and the lights from the town over the hill have nearly stopped reflecting in the skies. The tent with our sleeping bags is behind our backs waiting, but neither of us are tired enough to even think about going to bed. The ocean is rolling its waves towards the shore, and the sound of the water kissing the sand is the loudest sound for miles and miles around. Aidan is looking at the ocean and in that very moment he somehow seems to be the ocean itself, as dark and deep and terrifying, and I feel as if I were a mere sun ray, trying to touch at least its surface. I look around for my camera, but it's in the tent, Aidan looks at me and the moment is gone. I am, however, going to always remember it, this pull stronger than the tide that I've felt at the moment, the way moon shadows danced across his face.  
  
"All well?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, great."  
  
c)  
  
When I kiss him, I don't feel any butterflies in my stomach. I feel my beard scratching his face, his palms wet on my neck, his breath smells like pizza we ordered and beer we drank. I feel my side pressed against the table so it almost hurts, and I can feel him smile nervously. I got to know all of him, I know him better than myself, it seems, but this is new and raw and I love it so much tingles run down my spine.  
  
He breathes out: "Woah, Deano. I love it so much." and he kisses me again, and I feel water closing over my head, ocean stealing my breath away for good.

***

 

 _22\. the things you said after it was over_  
  
His bags are packed, and there's one night left. The room is dark and quiet, and so is Aidan, and  Dean cannot take his eyes off him. Aidan's leaving when the morning comes, taxi 6 in the morning, so Dean tries to memorise every little detail about him, wishes he could just breathe him in and never let him out of his lungs. That's it, the filming is over, the additional filming is over as well, so are all the goodbye parties. Most people have left already, and yet again it feels as if the family disassembling to be world apart. Aidan stayed longer than the last time, but they still can't prolong it enough to pretend there'll be no goodbye after.  
  
Sarah, who visited him while they were filming, is waiting for Aidan in Ireland, and Dean thinks about his Sarah, waiting for him just a few hours drive away. Yet this Wellington apartment they're renting feels more like home, at least for him. His drawings are pinned to walls, nature sketches and Aidan's face. Though mostly he keeps the latter in his moleskine - there's simply too many of them and it's stupid, but he doesn't really want Aidan to see them.  
  
Dean looks at him, not really knowing what to do. He wants to kiss him at least, but somehow Aidan seems so far away, as if the plane has already taken him back to Ireland. He sits down on their bed next to him and Aidan looks at him finally: "Well, that's it, isn't it?"  
  
Dean hums - not agreeing, but not particularly disagreeing. Aidan laughs quietly and leans in to kiss him, his breath hot on Dean's lips. Dean clings to him, grabbing into his hair, pulling him closer. He feels that if he closed his eyes, Aidan would just disappear, dissolve into the air. Yet he's still there, long gangly limbs, scruffy neck and dry lips. Dean can't really breathe when Aidan pulls away and looks at him, chewing on his lip nervously.  
  
"What is it?" Dean asks and it feels pathetic.  
  
"I don't know," Aidan says, "I don't think we should have sex now."  
  
"Okay," answers Dean carefully and straightens. Aidan looks absolutely unhappy and Dean wonders if so does he.  
  
"It's not that I don't want to, I do, very much so," Aidan says. "But it would feel like a goodbye, you know, a closing chapter. And I don't want this to end, Deano. There'll still be premiers and convents and God knows what else."  
  
Dean nods. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."  
  
Batman is scratching at the door, but nobody moves to let him in.  
  
Aidan embraces him (Dean can't really use a word "hugs", because this is as gentle and careful as it ever gets with Aidan, he's a hurricane, an ocean, force of nature not born to caress or care). They sit in silence, Aidan puts his lips on Dean's neck (Dean shivers), and says in a few minutes (or possibly hours): "I can't hear your heartbeat. I think it's because it's synchronized with mine."  
  
They still have sex anyway, slow and burning, and Dean somehow pays attention to every stupid little detail like sweaty skin slipping, painfully enjoyable grab on his wrist, unruly curl falling to Aidan's forehead, all these puzzles not quite making a whole picture.  
  
When they lie spent and tired, but still not tired enough to stop thinking about the morning, Dean pretends to be sleeping and counts the moments between Aidan's breath.  
  
He has nearly fallen asleep when Aidan rustles, moving closer, and whispers something unintelligible into his ear.  
  
When the morning comes, they don't speak about it.  
  
When Dean awkwardly hugs him goodbye at the airport, Aidan is smiling and his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

***

 

 _If I love you_  
  
_is that a fact or a weapon?_  
  
He wakes up to the last day of filming, and knows he probably won't survive it. He actually dies a few times on set, falling to the ground over and over, and watching Dean fall in front of him as well, like a nightmare locked on itself.  
  
And then it's over, it's done, and he takes his wig and his clothes and a goddamn fat suit off for the last time, and he watches Dean do the same, and it somehow feels like a closure - which it isn't. It is as if they just met, Dean just came to an audition and they laugh and joke and there's undeniable tension between them which nearly sparkles.  
  
He has a few unanswered calls but he doesn't want to even look - he perfectly knows who that is and he's pretty sure she'll be fine if he calls her back tomorrow.  
  
But tonight Dean is here, and Aidan is still here, and it's all that matters.  
  
He knows it for a fact he loves him, and he knows that this will ruin him later, it already hurts a lot more than he thought it would. It doesn't change anything.  
  
On his flight back home he's restless, he can barely sleep even though it's 17 long hours with lay overs, and he's on the edge of crying, but he certainly won't admit it.  
  
***  
  
It's always a weapon for him.  
  
He lifts his camera and says:  
  
"You're a soldier."  
  
(and he does look like a soldier, that look in his eyes only says that he's fought in a war that didn't need guns, and he's still winning, yet he knows it's not for a long while).  
  
The moment when he looks so broken it's terrifying he takes a picture and says:  
  
"Thanks, Aid. That's gold".  
  
His love is also a weapon whenever they meet after - but it's more of a nuclear weapon, the one you can not, will not really use, as in, you know, deterrence theory. Both of them have a weapon, so nobody attacks so that both of them survive.  
  
Because he knows that if he uses that weapon, it will also be a death of his.  
  
He hugs his wife at night, thinking that as long as he has this weapon, it's going to be alright. It is not going to be good, but it's going to be fine.  
  
When the phone vibrates with a text, he doesn't look at the screen.  
  



	2. the roads we travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missing Ireland has become a defining trait of mine and HollyCon happened to be the worst gift for my birthday.

You are neither here nor there,  
A hurry through which known and strange things pass   
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways  
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.  
\- Seamus Heaney, Postscript

It's mid July and Japan seems to him the biggest country in the world. He's too busy to think about it, but it's always in the back of his mind, looming over him. He has so many plans, all the interviews and shoots and everything, but he can't quite believe something will ever come after.

He travels a lot for work now, he travels all the time, and he's learned to sleep while travelling - in cars, airplanes, trains. As every Irish person who's left the Emerald Island, he dreams of it more often than not. He never really gave a thought about how being away could affect him, but it does, or so it seems. It's not like he doesn't have a place back there (he even refers to this place as his home), but he can barely find time between filming to get to Dublin lately. He dreams of his childhood house, his brother, only one year older but always so confident and collected. Aidan plays with him in tall lush grass and feels calmer than he remembers feeling in a long while. Green hills and tall skies are all around them and that's when Aidan wakes up in a taxi. If he manages to recognise that the hills he dreamt of are those of New Zealand, he forgets about it seconds after he's awake.

He said once that the older he gets, the less attached he is. Maybe it's not about being less attached, maybe it's about being able to deal with these attachments. Maybe it's just burying all this ache caused by missing Ireland, missing his folks, missing his friends, just missing.

It's late August and suddenly his flight is tomorrow. He is terrified - there's no way out of it now, but it's also the only thing he's really wanted for himself in years. Not for his career, not for someone else, just for himself. He doesn't consider himself an egoist, he never really needs too much or thinks about any capricious desires. Being always grateful for what he has somehow makes him feel a little guilty for wanting more.

He falls asleep on a plane and he dreams of being in a car with a person he believes he loves, an endless winding road in front of them, a never-ending summer ahead. When he wakes up, he feels rested, but somehow cheated. Nothing is endless, and even though they tried their hardest to get lost, the world still waited for them to find themselves back.

When they meet, Japan seems the smallest country in the world, just barely enough to fit the two of them. Aidan is dizzy with happiness, following Dean wherever he goes, never wanting to be away while he still has this chance.

It's a bit surreal, and even while surrounded by so many people he feels as if there's no one but Dean in the room, in the whole world.

Less attached, he thinks to himself. He doesn't stop for too long, but even the storms have some rules they can't break. Light as they might seem, they can't fool gravity and leave the planet. The difference in pressure changes their directions. It took him a while to notice this erratic pattern. How did Dean become the planet he cannot seem to leave?

When they speak it is so dreamlike Aidan can't remember a single word. He laughs and he jokes around and he's overwhelmed with what's happening.

The day is over, and Aidan is so exhausted he could just lay down and fall asleep right where he stood, but he has this unhealthy excitement boiling in his veins, and they agree on a walk, which he doesn't regret it for a moment. Tokyo is even brighter at night and they walk hidden under a "typical tourists" facade, without anyone recognising them. Dean is telling him something about Japanese folktales, he's read a book before coming here, and Aidan nods. He's distracted by all the lights, by his tiredness, by the way Dean's elbow brushes his, by his smile, by the sound of his camera, by how it's all tainted with the goodbyes already in the air. It's too soon, it's not enough, and Aidan again feels guilty for wanting more, for wanting all of Dean once and for good. He feels even more guilty for knowing he should have tried harder, he should have fought for what he wanted if he wanted it so bad, but he let it all go. Isn't it terrifying when someone knows your every thought? It was for Aidan. He looks at Dean and wonders if he can still read his mind.

They are back in the hotel and their rooms are on the same floor, of course. They stop by Dean's door and fall silent. Aidan had so many important words waiting for this moment on the tip of his tongue, but it tastes empty now. Dean doesn't look at him, fumbling with his card, so when he asks Aidan if he wants to come in, Aidan is caught off guard. The room is as faceless as any hotel rooms Aidan has stayed in, but it smells of Dean, and his clothes are thrown around (only Dean can do it that artistically, Aidan thinks), and, well, Dean himself is here. What's more to ask? Aidan doesn't have an answer to this question so he closes the door and sits on the edge of Dean's bed.

They both need to be up early tomorrow, there's a second day waiting. So Aidan quietly (he half expects Dean to joke about him being silent the whole evening) catches Dean's hand and brings it to his face, inhaling the clean smell of his skin. He lets go and bends to undo his shoelaces. It means he stays the night. Dean touches his shoulder and it's the loudest "yes" he's ever heard from him.

They brush their teeth at the same time, and Aidan thinks that this sudden domesticity is something his restless Irish spirit could get used to. He smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. Dean smiles too, and it means they're both in for trouble.

The light is off, and they fall into each other seamlessly, just like years ago, careful not to leave any marks, as quiet as they can. The kisses taste like mint and secret that has to be kept.

Aidan wakes up early, sheets all tangled around them. There isn't much time left, he thinks absent-mindedly. He wakes Dean by touching the back of his neck carefully and wonders about the dream he had

They'll be up in the skies way too soon, so Aidan just decides to cling to Dean's side while he can. Their roads cross for such a short time just to part again, and it doesn't seem fair, but there's nothing they can change. He genuinely enjoys what he can get, being more aware of his surroundings this day, trying to remember every moment he can.

It isn't over yet, there's still tonight, thinks Aidan. There's still forever of their paths crossing again and again.


End file.
